Intrepid Schoolboys, Restless Revolutionaries
by Pyrahus
Summary: Abaisse Law Firm was cramped into a small office building, just off the edge of City Center. If the old bricks wall could talk, it would recount the countless adventures and stories of laughter and tears that graced it's interior regularly and dreamed of changing the world.
1. Chapter 1

Marius was running late for the third time that week. As he clambered out of his car, he grabbed for his briefcase (nearly spilling the contents within all over the parking lot). Running through the heavy, oaken front doors of the building, he ignored the tempting smells of the Café Musain to his right and headed towards the elevators. The old gears groaned as it opened and he jabbed desperately at the "5- Abaisse Law Firm" button as if that would speed the process up. As the elevator brought him past 3 floors of some generic accounting company or another, he fidgeted, trying to straighten out his tie and make it look less evident that he had ran, despite his flushed complexion giving him away.

When the elevator dinged (obnoxiously loudly, in his opinion) he shuffled into the office as quietly as he could, trying to blend in.

Combeferre looked up from one of the desks, peering over his glasses and his laptop at Marius' entrance.

"Good morning Marius."

Marius froze in the doorway. He waited for Enjolras to bear down on him, berating him for being 15 minutes late again, which was really not his fault today because there had been a series of unfortunate events since he had gotten out bed this morning, starting with his toast burning and-

"Enjolras says he's going to be late. The metro broke down again."

"Oh, he's late? That's a relief. I mean- Not that it's a good thing he's delayed. I just." He mumbled, easing his way into his desk. Everyone else just hid smiles behind their mugs of caffeine. Cosette was out of town this week, on an assignment to confer with another legal firm on behalf of Combeferre and Marius seemed to be at a loss when she was absent. It was rather odd to see the couple not arrive together on the elevator to survey the sprawling expanse of offices, cubicles and desks placed, almost willy-nilly across the floor.

It was even rarer for Enjolras to be absent at half-past 9.

* * *

Enjolras paced back and forth through the subway station. The metro had been hilariously late again, citing technical difficulties and mechanic breakdowns for the delay. By the 4th announcement they made over the scratchy speakers, apologizing, Enjolras stifled a sigh and walked up to the entrance, intending to walk the ten blocks to his office. Pulling his jacket closer to his torso to ward off the cold, he braced himself against the cold autumnal breeze and typed a text out to Combeferre letting him know that he would be late.

Walking quickly, his movement punctuated by the click of his shoe against the cement and the hushed activity of Monday mornings, Enjolras tried to ignoring the cold air nipping at his fingertips, holding determinedly on to his worn briefcase. He decided to cut through the small park in the area, seeing the top of the familiar brick building in the distance. Enjolras hastened his pace, already looking forward to the heated interior. He was so focused on his goal, he almost did not notice the easel he knocked over.

"Hell!" he quickly reached out to steady the canvas, dropping his briefcase. He looked over at the owner to apologize. "I'm so sorry."

A man with wild, flyaway dark curls, tousled by the wind looked back at him, eyebrow quirked. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, betraying amusement. They looked at each other for a beat, before a tiny smile spread across the artist's face.

"You owe me a portrait now." the stranger gestured towards his canvas. Enjolras frowned, feeling guilty at the idea he ruined someone's work. When he leaned over to survey the damage he had done to the artwork, he was surprised to see only a few light pencil lines crossing the material and a letter R in the bottom right-hand corner.

"But it's a blank canvas," Enjolras stated, confused.

The artist leaned back on the park bench he had evidently stationed himself, paints spread about him.

"Is that what you see?"

Enjolras stared, at a loss. Finally, he sighed, frustrated.

"I don't have time for this, I'm already late for work."

"I'm sure they can wait a few more minutes. Art waits for no one."

"That's absolutely untrue. We've got people who are waiting on the results of our work, whose lives are changed by us. That can't wait."

"What's the point of you rushing around, just another pawn in the rat race?"

Enjolras scoffed. He could now smell the faint scent of alcohol coming off of man before him, a beer can at his side like a neon sign.

"And what's the point of you being publically intoxicated in the early hours of the day?"

R shrugged.

"Art."

His eye caught a glint of metal in the beaten up duffle-bag that the man had shoved under the bench. Spraycans? Who uses spray-cans for a portrait in the middle of a park? Before he could stop himself, he pointed towards the bag.

"Do you deface public property for art too?"

"R"s eyebrows rose and disappeared into his dark curls.

"I'm not going to even ask where that came from. Such accusations for you to be throwing at mere mortals."

Enjolras felt his ears burn with embarrassment and turned on his heel, _not running _towards his workplace. He didn't know where that came from either to be honest, except that something about "R" that threw him off.

* * *

Enjorlas looked visibly distressed when he came into the office, enough that when noon struck, Combeferre looked at everyone else significantly and the rest of the staff collectively decided it was a beautiful day to grab lunch downstairs. Courfeyrac lingered a little and nodded at Combeferre as he walked out.

Coufeyrac sauntered over, grabbing a file folder from Combeferre's immaculate workplace and placing it on Enjolras' desk.

"Here are the details of the Champmathieu Acquittal case that you asked for."

Enjolras nodded at it absentmindedly. Courfeyrac leaned against the desk.

"Okay, what's wrong?"

Enjolras looked up at his friend.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Enjolras, when you walked in, you didn't tell Marius to stop moping over the picture of Cosette on his desk. You didn't even yell at Bahorel and Feuilly when they ended up throwing paper airplanes at each other over a disagreement on a detail about a tort proceeding. You didn't even ask why the heck I'm giving you Combeferre's paperwork"

Enjolras blinked.

"There was a fight?"

"This is my point exactly, bro. Did the late train rattle you so much? I know you are anal about being punctual but if this is how you deal with problems, I'm finding you a therapist."

Enjolras sighed and leaned back in his chair, loosening his tie and undoing the button on his collar.

"I yelled at a drunk at the park and accused him of vandalism."

Courfeyrac looked at him archly.

"Well, that is new, even for you."

"I'm serious."

"I am too. What on earth drove you to that? You haven't done anything this dumb since you punched that dude on the debate team back in undergrad over lemmings."

Enjolras grasped at his neatly brushed curls in frustration.

"I don't know! He just… he got under my skin somehow."

"In a good way or a bad way?"

"What? I don't even know what that means!"

"I don't either, to be honest.

"He was drinking! In the morning! In public!"

Courfeyrac frowned down at him.

"If someone is already drinking at 9am, you should have stopped to see if he needed any help."

_And not yelled at him like a crazy person._

Enjolras tried not to sink into his chair at the disapproving tone in Courfeyrac's voice. Courfeyrac looked down at his phone and sighed.

"Come on, let's go downstairs. Joly wants to know if you are sick and whether or not it's safe to come back to the office after lunch and Combeferre already ordered food for us at Musain."

Enjolras sighed and got up, trying to push the memory of the bizarre conversation out of his head.


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the week passed uneventfully as Enjolras threw himself into the pile-up of work. Combeferre had conferred with Feuilly and realized that they needed to take on a few more paid cases since they were getting dangerously close to hitting the red (Enjolras grumbled but was acquiesced when Combeferre informed him that he had landed a Public Defenders case for Enjolras). The memory of paint-streaked hands and piercingly blue eyes faded though he had taken to walking through the park every morning and evening just to see if he could possibly run into the man again.

He didn't.

By Monday, Cosette was back in the office, fixing some of the bugs that had occurred on the network like an angel armed with coffee and an unending pool of knowledge. Bossuet didn't know _how_ entering his work into the shared folder had resulted in a collective loss of data in the C-drive of all the desktop computers in the office, it just _had_.

Combeferre just calmly sent out copies of any file that anyone in the office requested, as he meticulously organized and backed all documents up. He ended up handing Enjolras the entire hard-drive.

By Tuesday, Cosette had fixed the network and was back to reading over preliminary documents with Jehan, both of them hmm'ing over documents, with Cosette's fingers flying over her keyboard while Prouvaire (who preferred a hard copy of files, always) marked out sentences and made notes with his multi-colored pens and highlighters.

Marius, as usual, ended up scooting to Cosette's desk, working on his own files. The only reason that Enjolras did not bodily haul Pontmercy over to his own respective area and nail him there, was because early on, they had discovered Marius' productivity went down dramatically when he was forced to be apart from his girlfriend.

Thursday morning was time for their weekly meeting. They had originally scheduled them for Friday but it Combeferre pointed out that focus of the staff was always lacking during Friday meetings, despite everyone's best efforts.

After they had all touched base with each other on their individual progress and conferred with their teams, Enjolras closed his powerpoint and looked at everyone perched around his desk in a sloppy semi-circle.

"Any other concerns?"

Courfeyrac raised his hand and opened up a folder he had been sitting on.

"I was looking over our feedback from our past and current clients and I've discovered a trend. An overwhelming majority of them all say they came to know of us through recommendations from friends and family."

Combeferre nodded, satisfied that their work was well-received. Courfeyrac continued, gesturing to a chart.

"While this is excellent as it shows client satisfaction in our work, this also shows that no one else knows of our existence. A few people I made follow-up phone-calls to, expressed that they thought it was odd we did not have a website or anything and found it difficult to find any information about us. Due to this, they almost went to another firm for their issues. I talked to Feuilly and we both felt that we would benefit from having a website for our firm and we'd find an investment like that pretty profitable."

Enjolras frowned.

"We have our numbers listed on the phonebooks."

Bahorel sighed from his perch on Combeferre's desk.

"Dude, that may be true, but only seniors look to those for information now. Everyone just googles anything they are looking for instead of pulling that huge brick out. Yellowpages is pretty obsolete these days."

There was a lot of nodding among the staff. Eponine chimed in.

"If they can't find any information about us which talks about our qualifications and our goals, they'll probably just move on to the next website instead of bothering to call and ask. How are we going to help "the people" if they don't even know we exist?"

Enjolras sighed. They were right.

"Alright. Can Cosette make a website for us?" he gestured towards their resident secretary, who doubled as their IT support in their tiny, underfunded firm. Cosette leaned against Marius, clearly thinking about it.

"While I could code a website, it would look terrible. I don't understand any of the aesthetics work put into designing a good website, it would look like the project of a high-schooler. People would find our website and think it looked terribly unprofessional. We really should find a web designer instead."

Combeferre leaned forward, arms crossed.

"Since we are pursuing this line of inquiry, I think we should think about getting a proper logo as well. That would make our letterheads much more appealing and gives our files a more well-established and professional look."

Feuilly flapped a folder in the air.

"Since we completed the CA case, we have enough on our budget to fund a modest website for sure."

Enjolras nodded.

"Alright, it seems we're all in agreement in this then. We'll have to get in contact with a graphic-designer for a website as well as a logo. Jehan, I'll leave that to you."

Prouvaire brightened.

"Actually, before I even begin making calls, I have someone in mind. My old college roommate was an artist, I'll shoot him a text and see if he is interested."

"Excellent. Then if there are no more issues, I'll let us break for lunch."

Everyone packed up excitedly, chattering as they gathered up their bags. As a fledgling law firm which took an inordinate percentage of pro-bono cases, Abaisse Firm sometimes struggled financially but their small, but dedicated team worked happily against the odds.

* * *

The firm was the brain-child of Enjolras and Combeferre who had grown up together and attended the "Law Students in Action Project" program -which encouraged young law students to embrace more unpaid cases to help those in need- together. Most large firms always struggled to live up to their projected pro-bono case percentage, which infuriated Enjolras who saw too many people turned away because their pockets were not deep enough.

After a few stints in several different well-known firms (he was a bright, deans-list graduate), he ended up calling Combeferre one night asking if he were interested in striking out on their own as a general partnership.

Combeferre agreed.

The rest fell into place, mostly

Courfeyrac was a friend of Combeferre' in college, and though he majored in Drama, he had decided to go back for a second degree and excelled in Business School. After Enjolras and Combeferre explained their vision for their firm, he happily agreed to take care of both Human Resources and Public Relations in the same role. Over drinks, one night, Enjolras had made a bad pun and somehow the name "Abaisse" (ABC) stuck.

Bahorel was another friend Enjolras had met in school, who hated the restricting policies of his workplace and readily jumped at the chance to try something new, in paralegal. Feuilly came as a package deal with Bahorel and instantly found himself at home being a book-keeper and did not mind the tricky work of balancing the budget in their new company.

They had met Joly and Bossuet on chance. During the first few months of planning for their new firm, Joly had knocked on their apartment door. He had said that he lived downstairs from them and needed bandages because his roommate had an accident in the kitchen. A few weeks later, by sheer coincidence, Joly and Bossuet showed up for an interview for positions as paralegals for Abaisse. They had both proven to be competent and passionate.

Enjolras had brought in Eponine, who had been in the same Philosophy honors seminar as him, and also been a fiery debate partner back in high school. She proved to be excellent at task management, chasing people down for deadlines and an incredible savvy in drafting appeals.

Jehan was a brilliant young journalist, who wrote like an angel and was intensely passionate on the subject of justice for lower-income individuals. Courfeyrac had read one of his scathingly sweet articles and soon enough, they stole him from a publishing firm for their ragtag team.

Finally, Courfeyrac had introduced Marius and Cosette to Enjolras and Combeferre, a year into the formation of the firm, when the two lawyers were swamped with work and considering taking on a third to lighten the workload. When Marius was told about the concept, his eyes brightened and he and Cosette ended up chatting with the three excitedly over the lack of access to good legal advice many of the lower-income population suffered from. Even Enjolras couldn't say no to that sort of enthusiasm from the duo.

Together, they worked to help as many people as they could, focusing on those who couldn't afford their own legal advice, as "Les Amis de l'ABC" (which Bahorel jokingly called them in private).

Enjolras had nearly forgotten about the discussion over the website until one day Prouvaire let out an excited trill from his desk after he got off the phone.

"He said yes!"

Feuilly looked up from his laptop.

"Did you get yourself engaged to someone?"

Prouvaire held his hands to his chest and sighed happily.

"No, Grantaire said he's free and interested in working with us."

What Grantaire had actually told Prouvaire was "yeah, I've been fucking around with studio work for the last bit, it'll be nice to get a change of pace and stop selling paintings to dumb rich people who don't get art anyways" but Jean decided to omit the details.

"That's excellent news!" Combeferre called from their coffee corner, presumably filling up both Enjolras and his own coffee mugs. "When will he be available to meet us?"

"He says he can come and share his portfolio next week on Tuesday."

Bossuet marked this down quickly on the company's collective calendar, noting the appointment.

Courfeyrac sat down beside Jehan.

"I'm interested in this mysterious roommate of yours, Jehan," he teased, "Can I maybe get a sneak peek of his work?"

Jean tried to hide his blush, ducking his head with a smile.

"I can't find any of his graphics work, but he has a website of some his paintings." As he spoke, he quickly typed a URL into his computer, pulling up a page of images. Courfeyrac leaned in closer and raised his eyebrows with a whistle.

"Dang, I'm no art major, but those are really impressive."

Jean beamed with pride.

"He's a talented guy."

"And I look forward to meeting him," Enjolras interjected as he walked by, accepting his mug from Combeferre.


	3. Chapter 3

The first sign that day that Combeferre shouldn't have gotten out of bed was when he was woken by a crash downstairs. Though Enjolras and he were no longer roommates, Combeferre had opted to keep their old place, remaining Joly and Bossuet's neighbor while Enjolras had moved out to somewhere closer to their new office.

A few moments later, he heard rapid knocking on his front door accompanied with Joly's voice.

"Combeferre!"

He groggily got up to answer the door.

"Is something the matter Joly?" He blinked again, looking at the rumpled man before him who was wringing his hands. "Are you wearing an onesie?"

"Oh, it's terrible!" Joly wailed, "Somehow, Bossuet tripped in the bathroom today so he reached out to steady himself and he managed to rip down the entire shower curtain and the rod as well."

'Oh." That would explain the tremendous noise prior. "Is he alright?"

Bossuet came up the stairs behind Joly, looking sheepish but unharmed and also in a onesie.

"I'm just a little bruised, nothing serious."

Combeferre had not been awake long enough to even begin to mentally process the fact that the two were apparently wearing matching pajamas.

"-and today is the day that Prouvaire's old roommate is coming in and I really don't want to miss seeing him and besides, Enjolras would be furious, so may we use your shower?" He tuned in again to Joly's rambling.

"Oh, yes sorry." He sighed tiredly once he processed Joly's mangled sentence, stifling a yawn. "Of course you may. I'm going to have to be at the office to catch a conference call soon though, so I'll run through the shower first if that's all right and leave you two to lock up."

Joly grabbed his hands, excitedly.  
"Thank you so much Ferre, we owe you one." He brightened. "Let me make you breakfast, since you are in such a hurry!"

Combeferre smiled fondly at Joly.

"I would greatly appreciate that."

"I'll go get our clothes and stuff." Bossuet called as he went down the stairs again. Joly leaned out of the doorway.

"Please do not forget my flipflops!"

Combeferre raised an eyebrow.

"Flipflops, Joly?"

Joly nodded.

"You never know what terrible sorts of bacteria linger in damp environments. I could contract athlete's foot!"

Combeferre didn't know whether or not to be alarmed or insulted and stared dubiously at his own bath floor as he showered.

* * *

The second sign Combeferre should have just called in sick was when he arrived at the office, file in hand, ready to prep for his call to see Feuilly and Bahorel nose-to-nose, glaring at each other.

How and why they were at the office before even Combeferre and Enjolras arrived was beyond him.

"Well, you fucking fox-faced dipshit-"

"You are a goddamned Neanderthal with your thick skull-"

"Gentlemen." Combeferre sighed. When that call went unnoticed by the bickering duo, he raised his voice a little louder.

"Gentlemen!"

Bahorel and Feuilly turned to him in surprise.

"Oh, hey, morning Ferre!" Bahorel greeted as if he and Feuilly were not tearing each other to pieces just minutes prior. Feuilly waved lazily.

"As much as I appreciate your dedication, may I ask why you are both here so early?" Combeferre resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

They gaped at each other for a moment.

"Oh, we just had a disagreement on whether or not little blue penguins exist or not and the internet is down at our apartment so we thought we'd just come to work to check." Feuilly answered.

"Yeah, and those penguins are clearly more of a grey with a blue tint, so you were wrong, you color-blind piece of shit!"

Combeferre put up a hand to stop the argument before it escalated.

"While I appreciate your enthusiasm on the quest for truth, I've got a conference call in ten minutes and I had been hoping I'd be alone in the office to conduct that."

Feuilly and Bahorel blinked.

"Oh, why didn't you just say so, Ferre?" Bahorel asked, shrugging his leather jacket on while Feuilly tugged on a hat.

"Yeah, we were on our way down to the Musain for breakfast anyways, we'll let you be."

And with that, the whirlwind duo swept out, laughing already, argument forgotten.

Combeferre had just enough time to review the case before the phone rang.

* * *

By the time, he was off the phone and typing away at his computer to update their file on the client, Bahorel and Feuilly were back and talking intently in a corner. Eponine had also arrived with a smile and placed a steaming mug of coffee on his desk.

"Ep? Thank you."

Eponine answered his unspoken question.

"Good morning Ferre. I know everyone's schedules, don't you remember? I know you had an early morning."

Enjolras swept into the room with Courfeyrac and Jehan in tow, the former intently stalking to his desk while the latter two chattered happily.

"Good morning, everyone!" Jean greeted, dipping into a flourished low bow. Courfeyrac apparently took cue and moved into a clumsy curtsey, his briefcase hitting him in the knee. Enjolras, without even looking up from his desk where he was setting out his folder, called out.

"That's a curtsy that court members would reserve for the King of France."

"Good morning Courfeyrac, Jehan." Combeferre ignored his friend. "Not that I object, but you two are in a wildly good mood this morning."

Prouvaire practically bounced to his desk, messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

"Oh, yes! The sky is uncommonly blue today and that reminded me of Grantaire's blue eyes which reminded me that he's coming in today to show us his portfolio!"

He ran over to Courfeyrac and swung the two of them into a spin. Combeferre couldn't suppress his fond smile.

The elevator opened to reveal Marius and Cosette.

"Your hair looks especially lovely today!" Cosette was delighted.

Jean touched his braid at the mention of it.

"Oh yes! Grantaire always laughed when he saw all the flowers in my hair and call me a 'flower knight' when I put my hair up like this."

Enjolras interrupted.

"I need the work for the Digne case, where is Joly?"

Courfeyrac replied, eyes still fondly glued to Jean who was gesticulating wildly to Combeferre.

"Prouvaire and I ran into them at the front entrance. I think they probably dropped by the Musain to see their lady love."

"They should just ask her out, for fucks sake," Bahorel rumbled from his desk.

"Both of them at the same time?" Combeferre asked, amused.

"Hey! It's not gay, if it's in a three-way! With a honey in the middle, there's some leeway-"

Joly appeared through the door to the stairs at that moment.

"Did someone say honey? It's actually got great antibacterial properties and is better for our ingestion that processed sugar-"

"I am going to turn our collective attention to our work now." Enjolras announced loudly.

Under Enjolras' stern look, everyone slipped quickly back to their own desks and began to focus again. Even so, no one could suppress Prouvaire's excited fidgeting nor him humming under his breath as he worked.

Even Enjolras could only manage a smile.

* * *

The time ticked slowly to 2PM. Though no one wanted to openly admit it, they were all looking forward meeting the mysterious Grantaire after listening to Jehan reminiscing about the wonderful times he had had with his old roommate.

When the phone rang, Jehan grabbed it.

"Hello? Yes, I'll ring you right up!" he trilled.

The rest of the office looked at each other, hiding smiles, making an effort to not look too eager. As the elevator dinged to announce a new arrival, they all looked towards it curiously

When the man stepped through, Prouvaire was up like a shot.

"Grantaire! It's so wonderful to see you!"

He had an easy grace about him, his hair mussed as if he had attempted to tame his dark curls but ended up unconsciously running his fingers through his locks.

"Jehan. Still a faerie creature I see." He hugged him back affectionately.

Noticing the rest of the office, he detangled himself from the blond.

"Hello. I'm Grantaire. I'm here to- you know" Grantaire gestured at the large black art portfolio in his hand.

Everyone greeted him with kind until a strangled noise interrupted them from Enjolras' desk where Enjolras had gotten up.

Grantaire looked over and froze as the two men made eye contact, both wide-eyed.

The rest of the office looked between the two of them curiously.

Jehan pipped up first.

"You two know each other?"

Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

"You're the asshole at the park who owes me a portrait."

Enjolras sputtered, a blush creeping up his neck as his coworkers stared on in fascination at this exchange.

"You're the one who insulted my life's work and was drinking at 10AM!"

"You jumped to conclusions and took no time in judging me of course."

"You smelt of beer and you had a bag of spray cans with you!"

"I have no fucking idea about what's going on." Courfeyrac stated.

Combeferre really felt he should have stayed home today.


	4. Chapter 4

"These are a random selection of commissions I've done for various organizations over the past 4 years. They range from logos to websites and even custom fonts once in a while."

Grantaire lounged at the seat, arms crossed as Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Enjolras surveyed the variety of prints and samples he had brought.

After the initial harsh words thrown around and the two had somehow escalated to arguing about Greek philosophy, Combeferre had quietly but firmly steered the conversation back to the reason Grantaire had showed up in the first place. The two still looked at each other uncomfortably and did not make eye-contact.

"There are really quite impressive," Courfeyrac remarked as he looked over Grantaire's resume. "It says here you were offered a place the New York Academy of Art? Why didn't you take the Jeffrey Epstein Scholarship and go? I'm not an expert but that place is one of the most prestigious in all of North America if I remember correctly."

Grantaire's expression momentarily darkened.

"Reasons."

"What reasons?" Enjolras snapped, tired of his flippant attitude. "You clearly had an opportunity and the talent to further yourself, it's just a waste of potential."

Grantaire met his gaze, expression unreadable.

"You know," he remarked, "for someone who works to help people and believes wholeheartedly that the world is inherently good and just needs people to believe and work towards a common goal, you are not very good at this whole optimism thing are you? I'll thank you for the back-handed compliment though."

Combeferre shook his head, shooting Enjolras a warning glare before he could retort. Placing all the various works in a neat pile, he stood.

"Thank you sir, for coming in," he said as he shook Grantaire's hand. "We'll call you back when we come to a decision. It was very good to meet you."

Grantaire smiled his crooked half-smile that they had already become very used to over their half-an-hour interaction, his mouth twitching to one side.

"Same to you." he replied, collecting his prints and placing them inside his black case again. Courfeyrac also shook his hand heartily, saying something about meeting him and Jean for drinks sometime and Grantaire chuckled promising to stay in touch. Finally, he looked to Enjolras, pausing as he turned to go. Enjolras stiffly reached out and offered his hand. When Grantaire reached over the table to clasp it, Enjolras couldn't help but notice the paint tracks going up his wrist, into Grantaire's jacket, the feel of calluses in the firm grip or the ink that stained the skin on his long fingers.

"I- uh." He paused before picking up his train of thought again. "Good to meet you."

For that, he was rewarded a full smile, white teeth flashing.

"It was a pleasure," he replied before he turned stepped of the meeting room and out into the main office area again. As he walked, he looked over his shoulder.

"You still owe me a portrait though, Apollo." he called as he turned, presumably to say goodbye to Jehan before he left.

As soon as his footsteps faded, Combeferre and Courfeyrac both turned to Enjolras who was determinedly looking at his phone.

"Alright Enjolras-"

"-bro, what the hell was that?"

Enjolras looked down stiffly.

"I don't know what you two are referring to."

Courfeyrac leaned back on his chair, throwing his hands in the air.

"The –oh I don't know- yelling at a random guy and making snippy comments about his life choices, sort of thing?"

"Enjolras," Combeferre tried a different approach, "I know he rattled you but you can't go about being so cruel to people you barely know."

Enjolras frowned.

"I know." He stated. "He just- he infuriates me."

Courfeyrac looked at the ceiling for patience.

"No shit Sherlock."

Combeferre ignored the comment.

"If we hire this man, you will need to be professional."

Enjolras nodded.

"Of course. But we aren't hiring him."

Combeferre raised his "oh, are you explaining me a thing?" eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

"He's obviously got no work ethic, he'll just slow us down." Enjolras' argument sounded weak to even him.

Courfeyrac stood up.

"Well, too bad for you, I also get a say in whom we do or don't hire and you are full of bullshit today. His portfolio is excellent, don't you even dream of saying different."

Combeferre took off his glasses to rub his temples when Enjolras stared down resolutely at the screen again and Courfeyrac waved mockingly as he left the room.

* * *

"What is this?"

Enjolras shook the page in his hand. Eponine just stared hard at him and turned heel to walk back to her own desk.

**Abassie Co.**

Contract of Employment

Name: D. Grantaire

_The basic terms and conditions of your employment are set out in this Contract of Employment ("the Contract") and the Employers procedures, policies and rules are may be introduced and/or amended from time to time-_

Enjolras took the folder Eponine had given him and walked over to Combeferre's desk. Combeferre just looked up at him and quietly bookmarked the book he was poring over.

"Yes Enjolras?"

"Combeferre, we are not hiring Grantaire simply because he and Jehan are good friends."

Combeferre sighed tiredly and took off his glasses.

"No, we're not."

Enjolras relaxed.

"Oh good, then why did Eponine give me a mock-up of his contract letter?"

"We're hiring him because his work is excellent and we couldn't possibly find another person on the market willing to take the commissions at such a low price."

Enjolras jerked up surprised.

"Combeferre-"

"You can and will be professional about this." Combeferre cut him off. "Enjolras, we honestly couldn't ask for a better person to do this."

Enjolras clenched his jaw.

"Alright then." He finally said.

Combeferre looked at him carefully.

"Did you read the entire contract yet Enjolras?"

"No, I just skimmed the first page-"

"Enjolras, he'll be coming here to work."

Enjolras blinked at his old friend.

"Excuse me?"

"He's going to be the company webmaster, to keep it updated."

"Can't these guys work from home?"

Combeferre stared at him. Enjolras could feel his cheeks burn.

"Nevermind."

"You know," Combeferre called after him as he walked back to his own desk, "I'm here to talk about it."

Enjolras started at the case before him and threw himself into his work, ignoring the looks Courfeyrac and Combeferre shot each other before the two began texting.

[15:22] Courf: oky wtf is going on with enj.

[15:23] Ferre: I'm not sure. Your guess is as good as mine, you've honestly been better at reading people than I ever have.

[15:24] Courf: he is just being a huge d-bag tbh but i cant figure out y? did grantaire kill his cat or sumthing?

[15:25] Ferre: He doesn't have a cat.

[15:26] Courf: omg ferre i know, hypothetical q.

[15:27] Bro-horel: Sexual tension.

[15:28] Courf: WTF BRO

[15:29] Bro-horel: Dude, do you know how obvious it is of what you two are texting away about? The only person who hasn't caught on as per usual, is Pontmercy, who wouldn't notice if a meteor took out half the office.

[15:30] Ferre: Let's not talk badly of our coworkers.

[15:31] Bro-horel: Ferre, I love the man, but that boy can be denser than a sack of potatoes.

[15:32] Brohorel: Besides, if Enjolra's face gets any redder, they are going to make it a new shade of ladies lipstick.

[15:33] Courf: lmao "Enjolras Engine Red".

[15:33] Bro-horel: Sexy sexy lipstick that he could use to mack out with our new art kid.

[15:34] Ferre: And on that vivid note, back to work.


	5. Chapter 5

Grantaire stared at the phone for a second after Jehan excitedly told him he got the job.

He had somehow got the job. At the firm, lead by the most perfectly beautiful marble statue he had ever laid his tired eyes on, who also hated his guts.

When he had walked into the office to see the man he had run into at the park, he briefly contemplated kissing Prouvaire for calling him up, though the afternoon long interaction with the office made him wonder if Courfeyrac would have objected to Grantaire's actions.

Looking down at his worn sketchbook, he smiled wryly, thinking about the half-inked sketches that he had already placed on the page, based off memory.

"Grantaire?"

"May I come in person?"

Jean's silence sounded surprised.

"Didn't you always feel that regular office hours were too restricting? That the type of work best suited to you was when you could work from home during your own hours?"

"Yeah," his voice sounded far away even to him. "But I want to get a feel for your group. That'll alter my final designs."

Jean laughed.

"Oookay R. I'll run the idea by the rest and call you back."

"Thanks Jehan, I'll talk to you later."

"Goodbye!"

It didn't take long for Jean to call him back with the go ahead. It took even less time for Grantaire to start whole new set of sketches, detailing all those at the office, though he spent and extra amount of time on a certain set of golden curls.

* * *

This arrangement went by surprisingly smoothly. Combeferre and Eponine had managed to produce another desk out of nowhere, squeezing it into the already tight space without violating any fire-escape rules (a feat which Bossuet solemnly attributed to the involvement of some arcane dark arts).

Grantaire usually arrived at work in paintstained clothing, much to Enjolras' annoyance, but their duties kept each other far from one another, as Grantaire primarily worked with Cosette and Bossuet. No one commented on how often Grantaire's eyes would stray towards Enjolras' direction, though the latter firmly ignored his presence.

Grantaire also immediately struck up an easy friendship with all of the office workers, though primarily instantly bonding with Eponine and Bahorel, causing Enjolras to look nervously behind doors before he walked into them.

He also worked quite fast, handling instruction with ease, never grumbling when his work was sent back for revisions. In no time, he had already turned out a logo and was working on a letterhead.

It seemed to fall into place. Soon, he began to show up to their other gatherings, invited along by Jehan presumably. They were all beginning to get a little hard-pressed to remember a time before he was a part of their little office family. He'd go out to bars with them (though the amount he drank always annoyed and bothered Enjolras) or even show up to their monthly Sunday brunches.

Grantaire still infuriated Enjolras with his every move but they kept their bickering at a civil level, only having a couple major fights over the course of the weeks. But, as the laws of the universe dictated, this delicate peace couldn't go on forever.

The office had been discussing the rise of loan scam cases brought to them by their clients, during their Thursday morning meeting and ways to raise awareness around the issue of false loans, when Bahorel leaned back with a groan when it was clear the discussion was only going around in circles.

"I keep saying FLASHMOBS but all you ass-wipes keep ignoring me" he grumbled, longing for a coffee break.

"I don't think Apollo can keep a beat, unfortunately for you." Grantaire murmured absently in the seat next to him, tapping his finger on the table thoughtfully.

"Au contraire," Courfeyrac called from his position. Grantaire looked up, eyebrow arched.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, 'Ferre tell the story!"

"In 2nd year university, Enjolras had to fill some extracurricular hours in the Fine Arts department so he auditioned for a role in one of the directing projects for the 4th years." Combeferre explained, ignoring Enjolras' startled protestations. "His director chose a scene from Wicked –Dancing Through Life, was it?- and lo and behold, he landed the role of Fiyero. The professor of that class practically begged him to join the program after the performance because she thought he was well onto his way to professional acting and singing."

"Yeah, didn't she cry when he said no?" Courfeyrac stroked his chin.

"Shit, Enjolras, you made an old lady cry?" Eponine either looked scandalized or delighted, no one could tell.

"She was quite mistaken-" Enjolras was turning red.

"Oh my god" Grantaire sounded positively elated. "Fiyero? Someone tell me that this involved the tight pants, vest and the part of the choreography where he does a quick pole-dance before turning into a goddamned ballerina."

"Yeah he did." Bahorel crowed, "I snuck into the performance and even got me a nice video of it."

"You never said! And there is no recording of performances!"

"Ah, that was years ago, calm it, Enj."

"We are watching this." Grantaire gripped Bahorel's arm desperately.

"I'd like to see this too!" Marius interjected brightly, "Cosette and I went down to New York once for Christmas and got to see the show off-Broadway. That was a good trip, wasn't it dear?" he turned to Cosette.

Enjolras looked despairingly at Combeferre who just shrugged.

"Enjolras, I had to endure watching you practice the dance for hours in our dorm room and try not to laugh when you jumped on to the bed and swung around the post like a demented monkey. I even had to stand in for the female lead for you one rehearsal, I've paid all my dues in regards to that situation."

"I hope you took off your shoes before you jumped on your bed, no one realizes how filthy floors can be." Joly muttered.

Grantaire just looked increasingly desperate.

"I seriously need to see this, guys. As in, I'll promptly expire if you don't show me this video."

Before he could stop them, Bahorel had already swapped Enjolras' laptop for his phone in connection to the projector. Enjolras threw his hands in the air in exasperation and stood (he did not sulk) in the corner as Bahorel brought up a file and pressed play.

Jehan giggled delightedly as the music started and started clapping when Enjolras executed a perfect twirl. The rest just watched in rapt attention while Feuilly launched into a fit of hysterics midway through the musical number. Marius kept looking back between the video and Enjolras glowering off to the side. Enjolras was tempted to slap his gobsmacked expression off his face.

Agonizing minutes passed for him until the video was over and he huffed annoyed, trying to keep the high red flush off his cheeks.

He was going to make Courfeyrac and Bahorel's lives hell in the office for the next week, he decided.

"That was brilliant!" Joly clapped, happily.

"That is something we're not going to talk about anymore." Enjolras snapped. "Back to our important topic of preventing-"

"I think that was pretty important. Loosen up a little, Enj." Grantaire interrupted, looking up at Enjolras with an easy grin, his blue eyes bright on his pale face. Enjolras clenched his jaw.

"Loosen up? When we are talking about the rising trend of false loan companies?"

"Yes. This issue can't be fixed by some quick protest staged by a handful of people, so just take it easy for a second. Take some advice from your role and dance a little, through life."

"Of course you would find it alright to ignore real life issues, like the exploitation of the people by terrible schemers, in favor of some frivolous activity. Honestly, I don't understand why you bother to show up for any of these weekly meetings, when you obviously you don't care. You really don't care about anything but yourself and your vices."

Grantaire stared back levelly as everyone else shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm glad you know me so well," he raised his water bottle in a mocking toast. "Go on, save some unfortunate souls. I'll be off, I have some more frivolous activities to get up to, some puppies to kick, so on."

He gathered up his messenger bag and carelessly threw it over his shoulder, while Enjolras just stood, arms crossed, motionless.

When his footsteps finally faded down the corridor, Eponine finally frowned at Enjolras.

"What the hell was that Enjolras? That was actually a low blow. We were all unfocused, why did you just yell at him?"

Enjolras clenched his hands.

"That is not the topic of discussion of this meeting." He gritted out.

"Fine. I vote posters." Bahorel stated, his voice flat. A chorus of agreements quietly echoed around the small room.

"Since that's been decided upon, I've got a date with an excel spreadsheet." Feuilly declared, standing up and walking out of the conference room. Everyone else murmured similar things as they stood, while Jean walked by looking at Enjolras with a sad and disappointed expression on his face. Enjolras stared resolutely at the table before him.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre lingered around before Combeferre finally placed a hand on Enjolras' shoulder.

"We're both here to talk if you need it."

The two left, leaving Enjolras by himself in the room. After minutes, he finally groaned, putting his face into his hands. He couldn't figure out why Grantaire upset him so much, why they couldn't be together in the same room without arguing. He knew he could be cruel –many had informed him of that fact— but he couldn't reign himself in whenever Grantaire was involved.

* * *

The next day, to Enjolras' surprise, Grantaire arrived at the office again. However, their roles seemed to have reversed. Enjolras kept looking over in the direction of Grantaire, hoping the other would laugh easily like he always did, but instead, the man remained quiet, eyes glued to the material before him. At noon, Grantaire stood, handing a sheet of paper to Combeferre and quietly talking to him before waving at the rest of the office and heading towards the elevator.

He only briefly looked at Enjolras. Enjolras couldn't explain why he felt so miserable before turning back to drafting a legal will.

By mid-afternoon, his phone beeped. Looking down, he saw a new email from Combeferre.

**From:** acombeferre

**Sent:** Friday, October 29, 3:49 PM

**To:** cenjolras

**Subject:** Poster Duty

_Enjolras,_

_Since we decided on poster duty, we'll have to have someone design the posters to print out._

_Obvious choice is Grantaire. Since we're all bogged down with work right now, you can talk to him about it. You can also address another topic which I'm sure you know about, I'm going to leave you to figure that out._

_His art studio is only a few blocks of Lachine station, so if you take Direction Vandreuil you can….._

Enjolras stared down at the message incredulously before a small smile twitched at his lips. Combeferre had always been as gentle as Enjolras could be cruel, but he was unyielding and persistent.

He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair, closed down his laptop and put it away in his briefcase. Waving to his coworkers (who all looked far too knowing for his comfort) and nodding at Combeferre who gave him a small smile, he walked to the elevators.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Jehan smothered a small shriek before launching himself in Combeferre's direction.

"Did you do it?" he gasped in mock-whisper. "Did you really send him over to Grantaire's apartment?"

Combeferre nodded, unruffled.

"It'll do Enjolras some good. He needs to talk to him face-to-face and Grantaire said he was heading home to do some work so Enjolras can go to him."

Bahorel who was passing by with a stack of papers, snorted.

"Yeah, well, let's just be glad Grantaire isn't me because I'd slam my door in his pretty face."

* * *

Totally unaware of the conversation going on upstairs, Enjolras strolled out of his office building with two scones from Musichetta's café in hand. He quickly caught the lightrail train in the right direction and soon found himself standing before an old, run-down looking red-brick apartment, not unlike the one his office was located. Finding the calling pad quickly, he checked his email again to ensure he was buzzing the right suite/

He jabbed at the old, yellowing plastic button quickly, the intercom crackling to life moments later.

_Hello?_

"Grantaire," he breathed. "It's Enjolras."

Enjolras could picture Grantaire's expressive face contorting into a surprised expression at the silence that followed.

"You there?" he ventured.

_Oh yeah, yeah, I'm here. Jesus, sorry, you caught me by surprise._

"Is this a good time?"

_As good as any, what's up? If you are calling to tell me you are terminating our contract, I'd better sit down though-_

"No. Uh." Enjolras paused. "Can I come up?"

_Where the hell are my manners, leaving you to freeze outside. Door is to the left of you in the corridor._

The door buzzed, unlocking so Enjolras could enter the old building. Climbing the stairs, he quickly found himself in the hall, Grantaire leaning out through a doorway, waving.

"The great Apollo comes to call on lesser beings in person, I'm honored." Grantaire flourished a wave.

Enjolras suppressed a wave of annoyance at the nickname, stepping into the small apartment. The entire living room area looked like an explosion of color, huge windows letting in light that highlighted the paints curling about the white walls, stretching towards the roof in some places. Canvases lined the walls, leaning against each other in rows, next to a large drafting table. Grantaire stood at the centre barefoot, his trousers rolled up mid-calf, splatters of paint decorating his feet and interlaced with his dark curls. A vivid red streak adorned one cheek and black ink stained his fingertips.

Enjolras felt his breath hitch for a moment.

"I brought scones," he replied brusquely, shoving the paper bag in Grantaire's direction. Grantaire looked delighted.

"Are these Musichetta's? Her baking is heavenly."

Grantaire beckoned him over to a table off to the side, where papers were thrown haphazardly, empty beer bottles were around the area and three mismatching barstools sat. Grantaire eased himself into one while Enjolras followed his lead and sat in another.

Finally sitting, Grantaire seemed to lose a little of his bravado. Picking at a paint splatter on his finger, he chewed his lip.

"So, what's up Enjolras? I never expected you to come all the way down here during the middle of the day."

Enjolras pulled his attention away from the red streak on Grantaire's cheekbone and focused back on the conversation.

"I wanted to ask you to design our scam awareness posters." He answered. Grantaire contemplated, still chewing his lip.

"Really?" Grantaire' voice remained very light though the intensity in his eyes betrayed his anxiety.

"Yes." Enjolras replied primly.

"I'll take the commission, just tell me more about what you are envisioning. Any slogans?" Grantaire pulled a pencil from behind is ear, working quickly on a sketchpad as Enjolras began to talk. He interjected hmms and ahhs as he worked, his fingers moving quickly across the parchment as Enjolras let himself speak passionately about protecting oneself, encouraged by Grantaire's response. Finally, Grantaire set down the pencil.

"That's enough for me to get a few preliminary sketches going, I'll bring them in after the weekend."

"Thank you." Enjolras stood awkwardly, not knowing where to go.

"This is an awfully long way for you to come, just to get me to draw some posters, you know." Grantaire sat, looking up at Enjolras.

"Yes. There was something else."

"Oh? What else can I do for you?"

Enjolras shifted his weight awkwardly before dropping down into his seat.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior towards you." He said quietly. Grantaire looked so surprised that Enjolras felt another jolt of guilt. Had he been that cold to Grantaire?

"Hey, it's no big deal." Grantaire replied.

"No, I've been very rude to you since you've come to work at Abaisse. Even before then, to be honest. That's not acceptable of me. This doesn't mean I won't continue to argue and fight with you, but I'm sorry for being so unkind."

Grantaire gaped at him.

"It's fine," He finally replied. "I know I can be difficult to work with as well."

Both men looked at each other tentatively.

"I'll see you at the Musain tonight then, at the usual booth?" Enjolras asked quietly as he stood. Grantaire nodded. Before Enjolras walked out the door, Grantaire stopped him with a folder in hand.

"Here, I thought you'd want to see this."

Enjolras nodded, tucking the folder beneath his arm before raising his hand in a farewell. Grantaire mirrored his motion before grinning wildly and closing the front door.

Only when Enjolras was settled back on the train, heading back towards the office, did he glance into the folder. It was a print of the different letterheads that Grantaire had designed. A hand-scrawled note adorned the bottom corner of the page.

_I tried to make these as swanctified as possible._

_-R_

Enjolras carefully tucked the folder into his briefcase.

* * *

Notes: If you haven't seen Aaron Tveit's performance of Dancing through life, google it right now, he's a life ruiner. Thanks again for all the lovely feedback! I'd love to hear more :). -Lian


	6. Chapter 6

Hey everyone!

Unfortunately, this is NOT the update you are looking for! But good news! I've gotten quite a few messages asking if I ever planned on finishing this fic and the answer is ABSOLUTELY YES.

I've just been terribly busy with work and school and other engagements this summer so I can't promise when I'll get the next chapter out, but I'll certainly be doing it. I've already got drafts waiting on the computer, no worries.

Thanks for your patience and understanding,

Lian


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